Ten Months Later
Breaker
"Come on, Breaker! Come get some lunch!" Aimee leans against the metal fence of the patio. The wind blows through her newly dyed and cut hair. The sunhat blocks her face, but I can tell she's smiling. She always smiles now.
I dust off the sand from my hands and grab the surfboard from its perch up the beach. Aimee's brother-in-law has tried to convince me a million times that I'll learn to love surfing as much as I like riding a bike, but so far, that’s turned out to be a crock of shit. It had some of the hallmarks—the wind hitting your face, the sun on your back—but where is the thrill? Where is the feeling of your life entirely depending on how well you can control your bike? Last time I tried surfing all I got was a strained calf muscle and a wasted hour coughing saltwater out of my windpipe. If I’m entirely honest, I miss that feeling of control that being on a bike gives me.
But then again, that control—that rush—was what almost killed me. Giving it up probably has saved my life, and as much shit as I give Hawaii, there’s a lot of good going on along the waterfront. The town we are calling home—at least for the time being—makes me feel as if I’ve stepped back in time. It’s much more innocent and pure than anywhere I’ve ever known, even the place where I grew up. I can tell why Aimee wanted to get back here; it has this crazy way of making you feel like a completely different person. It purifies you—body, mind, and spirit—with every bath you take out in that salty ocean or when you step out into the warm rain.
God, I sound like a hippie who’s hit the bong one too many times. But this shit is infectious, and I’m shocked at how much I actually enjoy the peace it gives me. After everything that went down last year, this is like a reprieve, a world so far removed from the one I’ve known that it might as well be another damn dimension.
Our cottage is this little wooden house the locals all dig. Without a doubt, it’s a far cry from living on the road or back on the reservation. And honest to God, I don’t have a fucking clue how we're going to pay Aimee's sister back for letting us stay here while we figure out whatever comes next. Not that she expects it, I guess. But I hate owing anybody anything.
Thankfully, we've got just about enough money to buy our own place. Henry and the new Gravedigger's administration made sure we walked away with more than our fair share. Henry himself had insisted. "Payment for taking down our biggest enemies," he explained as he cut me the check with more dollar signs than I’ve ever seen in my life. "Now, don't spend it all at once, ya hear?"
He shook my hand, and I turned towards the waiting car. Aimee had her bag and that picture of her family ready to go. All I took with me to the airport was my Gravedigger jacket. Now, it hangs on a wall hook near the entrance, patches still on display, even if I’m nothing more than an honorary member.
Aimee got the same treatment. Henry gave her some cash for her troubles and paid for the plane tickets back to Hawaii. It wasn't easy telling him we were leaving the Gravediggers and Texas behind, but he knew it had to be done. With the Devil's Fighters regrouping, we were sitting targets.
Once we got off the plane, Aimee's sister was waiting. Aimee had worked it out with her, over many long phone conversations, for us to stay in their beachside home while Aimee’s sister and brother-in-law were on the mainland working some legal cases.
They're scheduled to be back in a week or two, which means time is ticking down for me to make a decision on what road I want to take. There isn’t much here in Hawaii for me, or for Aimee, but there’s a fresh start to make or do whatever we want with our lives. Aimee can stop stealing and running, and I can start living life on my own terms. Maybe form my own club and map out my own territory in a place low on guys like me.
Whatever we chose to do with our lives, at least we can do it together.
Aimee’s waiting inside, cutting up some fruit. Her skin has gotten darker since we’ve been here. It practically glows. I walk up to her, and she shines as she says, "I got some coconut water for you. It's not exactly shitty bar beer, but I swear it's good."
Coconut water. Jesus. This was never the life I’d envisioned for myself. Granted, I’d never really seen myself as much of anything—figured I’d probably end up dead first, anyway—but serene forests, Zen-like beaches, and fucking coconut water? Never would’ve thought this would be my life, not in a million years.
But it’s what I want now. Or, more accurately, Aimee is what I want now. I want to be where she is.
My long arms drape around her body from behind, as my lips find her soft neck. Aimee tilts her head back to peer at me. Her hands trace the lines of my face, scraping away some sand stuck to my cheek. "I like this sun-drenched look on you, Breaker."
"Well, I like the look of nothing on you."
She laughs, her head pressing back against my bare chest. "Later. Right now, let's eat."
I take her hand as we walk out to the patio. “Let’s hold up on that for a second,” I say. “Right now, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
Aimee bites down on her bottom lip, looking a bit apprehensive. "Should I be scared?" she asks, a nervous lilt to her voice.
I sit us down on one of the long wooden benches facing the ocean. She leans her head against my shoulder, her hand resting on my swim trunks pocket. The expert at pickpocketing, it takes her only a few seconds to feel the outline of the box.
"Breaker?" she asks, sitting up a bit straighter.
I whisper back, "Go get it." I lean my hips to the side so she can reach her tiny hand into the pocket to retrieve the blue, velvet box. She studies it with widening eyes.
I open the lid for her as she gasps. The diamond stone glints in the sunlight.
"Aimee," I begin, my nerves suddenly getting the better of me, but I manage to keep my shit together, "it's time we take the next step. I made an oath before, but it's nothing like this. This means more. My blood is your blood. My heart is your heart. And my oath to you is that, as long as you're wearing this ring, I’ll protect you and love you until my dying breath."
Aimee lets out one last long sigh before cupping my face in her hands, a water veneer glazing her eyes. She leans in and presses her lips to mine for a long, deep kiss, and as she pulls away, she smiles and says the only word that matters.
“No.”
I lean back, startled. “N-no?” I stammer, thunderstruck. “Aimee, I— I—”
But the smile on her face says more than I could’ve asked for. “I totally had you there for a sec,” she laughs out. “You’re still an idiot.”
“And you’re a damn vixen.”
“In that case,” she says, holding out her hand and motioning to the ring, “I think I’ll revise my answer.”
“Oh you will, will you?” I say, grinning, and slip the diamond ring onto her slender third finger. I wrap my arms around her waist and gently guide her back inside, towards the bed. “And what will you revise it to?”
“I dunno,” she teases. “I’m thinking, maybe.”
I kiss her again, letting go of all the anger, all the resentment, all the needless bullshit of my past life.
“And now?” I ask finally after I release her lips.
“Oh, you big moron.” She slaps my chest playfully. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
“Marry me?” I ask, pretending to be startled. “I was just hoping you wanted to go steady.”
“Go steady?” she mocks me. “What is this, 1955?”
“It could be any era, any year,” I say. “I would want you no matter what.”
“Damn right you would,” she purrs. “Well, I guess I could say…”
I don’t let her utter another word. I press my face to hers, our deep love bubbling between us. I kiss down her lower lip, her cheek, her neck, her shoulder. She brings my face back to hers, and she’s started to cry just a little bit. I catch a glimpse of the shiny ring as I kiss her again—one full of the promise of a fresh start and a real future. And I think—for the first time since this craziness began—this is what I’m meant for. This is who I’m meant to be.
THE END